Six stories from a photograph

one.
We were proving some jokes
by showing our eyes were
never needed to meet –
telepathy proved it,
transferred the comedy
between us, quite discrete.

two.
I am running for you
and the roof is open
to cold suggestion where
you stand still statuesque
and waiting for my hands
to hide you from the air.

three.
You silenced me – silence
was the weapon – you stole
my voice leaving quiet.
But remember the truth:
one third one caused the noise
to die – don’t deny it.

four.
We have been waiting here
the years a thousand times
a moment in passing.
The sky bleached, face solid
and the support standing
between us and laughing.

five.
I held the secret you
and I regarding it
held it as a riddle –
and my hands holding it
were a way of fighting
some truth in some cradle.

six.
You are the photograph.
You hold image in air
of light received – no more
than photographs can be.
Past and future are deaf
playing no music, no score.